She sits aback a hazel tree in serene repose

Exuding a quiet, gentle grace.

Her soft, tawny fur melds into bark and earth,

Long black-tipped velvet ears upstanding, nose twitching,

Two oval amber eyes ever alert to the surrounds,

For to lapse in attention is to invite peril.

Grass snakes weave through the lush meadow,

Hawks and kestrels scour the earth from above,

Foxes, weasels and stoats prowl the fields,

All dangers of the natural world

On the hunt for prey.

Speed and awareness are her antidotes, her gifts.

In the blink of an eye, she tears through the grass

Joining a drove to race and chase,

Twisting, turning and leaping around each other

Like fallen blossoms swept up in a spring breeze.

Gambolling and pirouetting with fluid grace,

In an instant, she melts into the landscape once more.

Daily I sit in humble reverence

Amidst the highs and lows of life’s harshness,

Practice receiving the wrath of a mother or loss of a friend

With due respect, yet remember to effortlessly pivot

To the eye of Grace and play here in His sacred field,

Where Love is all and all is Love.

Comments and insights welcome